


let it me do it right for once

by TolkienGirl



Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: F/M, Futurefic, Grief, Idyllic post-series life in England...that is what I give them, Romance, Soft and Fluffy? Did I write fluff, title from Siken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: “It has been three years,” Jed says, “Since we came alive.”
Relationships: Jed Marshall/Jonathan Pine, Sophie Alekan/Jonathan Pine
Kudos: 13





	let it me do it right for once

_When you have seen the pyramids in grey-blue dusk, rising uncaring and remote above the furious city…when your heart beats too quickly for fear, it must be love…_

“She’s been dead eight years,” you say. Jed’s smile is gentle in its pain.

“You loved her.”

“I did.” With a feather-light touch of her hand, she reassures you: she is not jealous of this. Jed is not a jealous woman, by nature or by experience. She does not like to think of owning anyone. You say, rather hoarsely, “She would be glad to see us happy.”

“Mm,” Jed hums. “Tell me about her.”

_Everyone must escape_ , Sophie said, soft, unhurried. That was when you first knew her.

When she died, you did the opposite. You ran for captivity, thinking yourself beyond use and love together. Then you fell in love with Jed.

Jed looked like a creature who wanted to escape with every lean gazelle line of her body. You could see that at once.

Jed would not really look at you, in the beginning. Instead, she looked through you.

“She was like you. Brave. Kind.”

“Always in danger?”

“Naturally.”

Jed’s son—who is coming to think of you as a father—is playing on the lawn. But for the comfortable dove-grey house behind you, the whole world is green. That is because you are in England. There is no endless, barren desert here. There is no horizon burned golden and blood-hot, stretching out and away from civilization itself.

The sky over England, it must be admitted, _is_ less blue.

“And she led you to me.” Jed tips back her head, so that the soft golden thatch of her hair slips down over your wrist. She is leaning, as she often does, against your outstretched arm. “In a manner of speaking. For that I’m grateful.”

“I know. And I.” You remember Sophie’s smile, which nearly never reached her eyes. She gave you a gift, and the rest of the world a sacrifice. She gave Jed freedom, though she didn’t know it.

Her real name was Samira. She gave you that, too.

“It has been three years,” Jed says, “Since we came alive.”

_Amid rooms sizzling with hatred and champagne, smoky with cigars and intrigue, lush with old carpets and older wine—there are more lies than truth._

_You have to look through them._

You kiss Jed’s delicate eyelids, her aquiline nose, the strong curve of her jaw. “I love you,” you murmur. You will never be tired of those words. No one can, who has nearly lost the power to say them.

No one can, who has a heart.

“And I,” she answers. “You. I love you, Jonathan.”

_Beside clear waters, you come to understand her. The darkness is not below the surface of the water, but above and behind you, talking in strange rooms._

You shift. Both of you are open in this way, moving around each other and with each other, so that you need never know the pain of holding still again. Your hand moves to the curve of her belly. She, in turn, grants you a smile that warms both her lips and her eyes.

“We shall name her something beautiful,” she whispers, as an invisible kick brushes your palm. “Perhaps we shall name her Sophie.”


End file.
